


Waited for a Long Time

by castielsass



Series: Spideypool Kink Prompts [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the kink prompt 'scar kink'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waited for a Long Time

Peter’s internet history was erased every night at nine pm. He scoured his computer and routinely deleted everything even slightly related to scars or fetishes, or kinks. He had tried his kink out once with Mary Jane when they had been together, but she couldn’t get into it. She was ok with it as they kissed and she slid her legs around his waist, he had grabbed her knees and pushed them down, spreading her feet. She giggled and grinned when he dropped to his knees, but quickly bit her lip when he lay his head against the outside of her thigh rather than between them. As he rocked forward on his knees and pressed his mouth to a scar on her thigh from a biking accident, she had shied away and giggled. “I’m sorry, it’s just strange. You know, I spent so long covering it up and being embarrassed of it, all that attention is a little…disconcerting,” she explained, biting her lip. Peter had recoiled immediately, apologies spilling from his mouth as he rose to his feet. Cheeks bright pink, he had shrugged her apologies off, laughing awkwardly. She had kindly pretended not to notice the outline of his dick in his pants.

Peter had suppressed most of that idea in his regular life, only allowing himself a few minutes a night to scour the internet for others who felt the same was as he did, or jerk off with his fist jammed in his mouth and his eyes shut tight.He presented as totally normal to anyone he dated, or went home with for a night, pretending he was as vanilla as possible. He managed like that for a surprising amount of time, until he was forced into a team-up with Deadpool. SHIELD had apparently decided that Peter was the best choice for protecting New York from/with Deadpool, depending on the day. It worked just fine, until one day they were caught up by some Z-list villain who knocked them out with gas, then webbed them to the walls of his apartment with some spider goo he had synthesized. Peter woke up affixed to the wall, with Deadpool in the same position only a foot away. “About goddamn time you woke up, Sleeping Spidey. This dude hasn’t shut up in hours.”

Z-list villain of the week glared at Deadpool with a fierce expression of disbelief. “Me? I didn’t shut up?!”

Deadpool rolled his eyes, apparently trying to shrug where the bonds of the web wouldn’t allow him. “Whatever, Iron Dick should’ve tracked your phone by now. I hear the soundtrack of disappointment and alcoholism outside, that must be him.”

Peter sighed, but Deadpool was right, the door blew open with the fanfare of ACDC and Iron Man strode in and incapacitated Evil Guy #1746252 with irritatingly little effort.

Iron Man used his laser cutters to snip carefully through the webs containing Peter, ripping away his suit where necessary where it had been too damaged or stuck to the web. Peter fell to the floor, yanking his torn suit up around his waist. Tony turned to Wade, cutting him free with much less care, leaving his suit in tatters around his waist and thighs. With a raise in the volume of Shoot to Thrill, Tony sarcastically saluted them and threw a warning to be careful in future behind his shoulder as he broke the apartment window and flew off. Peter glanced down at the unconscious villain and then turned to Wade to see if he was injured but instead he was faced with the sight of Wade’s skin in full view. Peter’s mask was still on his face, and that was something he was immensely grateful for when his mouth dropped open. Deadpool was completely covered in scars. Long, deep gouges that ravaged his skin, a bead of blood slid down through the line of a scar that wrapped low around his bicep. Peter swallowed hard, caught up in the image of pressing his own soft lips to that rough skin, following the lines and traceable patterns sunken into his skin. He’d lick his lips, get his mouth wet and let the tip of his nose graze down into those three gouges low on Wade’s muscled stomach and wrap his mouth around the head of Wade’s dick. Peter exhaled, trying to relax while Wade attempted to wrap the shredded remains around himself, and then he was assaulted by the wonder ‘is his dick scarred like that’? Peter gulped. Wade finally looked up at him, mask curiously expressive of confusion.

“Are you hard?!” Wade demanded. Peter shot backward, hands coming down to flutter around his hips, until he eventually turned his back.

“No! I have to go,” Peter said weakly, ensuring his shooters were still working and attached before he ran over to the window.

“You’re a total freak, what the hell?” Wade asked, following him. His words were harsh but his tone was just confused. As if he was mystified that anyone would get hard because he was almost naked in front of them, with his stupid big muscles and scarred skin on show.

“I have antirobinasticidia, it’s a legitim-” Peter exploded, before Wade interrupted with a “bless you”. Peter just clenched his fists and swung away on quick webs before he could betray himself any further.

 

Back at his own apartment, Peter showered and pulled on sweatpants before he lay on his back in bed. His stomach churned with leftover embarrassment, arousal, and shame. He shut his eyes, but the image of Wade’s textured skin burned in his mind anyway. Before he knew it, his hand slid down his own blandly smooth skin and wrapped tight around his dick. He slid his hand up and down, with the blanket wrapped up in the fingers of his other hand.His hips started to work forward slowly as he imagined the way Wade’s hand might feel next to his own soft skin if they wrapped their hands together to jack him off.

“Peter…”

Peter moaned, lifting his hips sharply, his eyes shut tight. “Yeah, Wade,” he gasped, his hand punishingly tight around the base.

“Dude.”

That didn’t sound like the pleasure torn Wade in his imagination. Peter opened his eyes.

Deadpool stood at the end of his bed, in a fresh suit. Peter gasped again harder and yanked his sheets up high to his chest.

“How did you get in? How long have you been there? Have you always been that tall?” Peter rambled, tucking the sheets underneath him, trying to leave enough wrinkles in the fabric so that maybe his dick wasn’t quite so visible.

“What? Yeah? “ Wade said, tilting his head. “At least I think so. Anyway scooch over honeypot, lemme in.”

Against his much better judgement, Peter actually slid over to one side of the bed, and Wade threw himself down onto it, still talking.

“-researched that thing, and you’re still a total freak, but you’re a hot one so-”

Peter swallowed again, very aware that he was only wearing loose sweatpants and a sheet.

“-figure we do this ‘cause you’re totally out of my league but you got that thing so-”

“Not,” Peter croaked, and swallowed when he heard how hoarse his voice sounded. “I’m not out of your league.” And that’s all he could manage, because Deadpool was lifting up onto his knees and flinging himself across Peter with energy and absolutely no regard for not crushing Peter’s boner. Peter squawked and flapped his hand and Wade took that opportunity to yank his sheet down, and his mask up and swallow Peter down to the hilt. The first thought that floated across Peter’s mind was how warm his mouth was, until Wade sucked and he was overcome with the realisation that Wade had scars on the inside of his mouth. Peter gasped and shuddered and pulled hard on Wade’s mask, saying “You gotta stop, wait.”

Wade scowled and yanked his mask off fully, grimace carving deep furrows in his forehead. “I fucking knew it, it’s all good as fantasy but it doesn’t really work-” he stood up and started toward the door, rambling about broken dreams. He didn’t shut up until Peter threw a pillow at him and yelled “You had to stop or I was gonna come!”

Wade turned around, air filling his cheeks out like a squirrel.

“Well, that’s a whole different barrel of kettles,” Wade said, returning to the bed. Peter fought an eyeroll and pushed himself to his knees, pulling on Wade’s suit. Without a complaint, Wade unzipped and let Peter slide the fabric off rough, tortured skin. Peter inhaled deeply, looking up at Wade for permission. After a jerky nod, Wade climbed onto the bed, letting Peter slip on top of him and mouth at the line of a scar that wrapped from his throat to underneath his lower lip. Peter bit back a moan, closing his mouth against the front of Wade’s throat where another scar lay long and deep and horizontal as if someone had slit his throat. Peter followed the line with his tongue, soothing badly healed flesh. Wade wrapped big hands around Peter’s hips, grinding them together while Peter’s hand came up to lay against Wade’s ribcage, his thumbnail catching on pitted skin.

“Does it hurt?” Peter asked, fingertips laying warmth and care across ravaged skin. Wade shook his head.

“I mean your skin.”

“Every day,” Wade shrugged, slipping his hands down to Peter’s thighs to separate them and rock upwards. Peter gasped, and Wade took that as permission to turn him over and lay on top, rocking harder. Peter bit back stupid noises and praises as his cock, wrapped in such boringly pale, smooth skin jammed against Wade’s, their stomachs tight together, Wade’s scars catching against his skin with every thrust. Sweat made the slip easier, but Peter laid his hand on the back of Wade’s neck like a blessing and moaned when Wade kissed him. He came with Wade, and pulled away to see come slip into the cracks of scars and stick to his belly.


End file.
